


To Fill the Void (English)

by Callybal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindness, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Gay Sex, Leather, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Nightclub, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Size Kink, Sub Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, hood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callybal/pseuds/Callybal
Summary: Hannibal Lecter seemed to be one of the most fulfilled and surrounded men in the country. Nevertheless, a gaping void pervaded his life, a void concealed in the depths of himself. After all these years of life and experiences, he no longer needed to psychoanalyze himself to find the roots of this void, of which he was perfectly aware. Just as he was aware of what helped him to lessen the unpleasant and prickly sensations that this emptiness provided.Psychic manipulation. Murder. Sex.Not any kind of sex. Where psychic manipulation and murder gave him a sense of power that filled the void, he regularly needed the opposite in sex. To find equilibrium and balance.Hannibal liked to be penetrated to fill the void.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a translation of one of my stories, originally in French. It was supposed to be a short story, but in the end, I write more!
> 
> A huge thank you to krisBurie for the correction, and for the precious support.
> 
> If you like it, don't hesitate to leave a word or kudos, just so I know, and because it gives motivation! Nothing is more grateful than having an audience.
> 
> Love <3

Hannibal Lecter seemed to be one of the most fulfilled and surrounded men in the country. Nevertheless, a gaping void pervaded his life, a void concealed in the depths of himself. After all these years of life and experiences, he no longer needed to psychoanalyze himself to find the roots of this void, of which he was perfectly aware. Just as he was aware of what helped him to lessen the unpleasant and prickly sensations that this emptiness provided.

Psychic manipulation. Murder. Sex.

Not any kind of sex. Where psychic manipulation and murder gave him a sense of power that filled the void, he regularly needed the opposite in sex. To find equilibrium and balance.

Hannibal liked to be penetrated to fill the void. 

For a psychopath like him, it had been hard to concede to letting a partner have dominance. Some contextual and mental arrangements had been necessary. 

First, he chose his partners and always remained anonymous if he was the one being penetrated - there was no way to let anyone think that Dr. Lecter could be led.

Then, even if he was penetrated, most of the time he still dominated. By devious means, sitting on his partner when he decided to, imposing his own rhythm of penetration, or all those little things that gave him a feeling of sufficient control.

And then, sometimes, rarely, he needed to let go of all the control he was constantly maintaining over his life, to become simply a thing that could be taken and filled in. It was so relieving, it released all the pressure that had secretly accumulated. In those moments, most of the time he found himself in a completely dark room in a random nightclub, his body sweating and crushed by another. 

Hannibal Lecter was a pansexual man, with multiple sexualities: women, men, power games, multi-partnerships, etc. There was not much about sex that he hadn't tried before. He meticulously dosed his desires and impulses, which contributed and helped him to remain a balanced man on all other levels of his life. Sex was a way, an outlet.

That day was one of those rare days of the year when the desire to forget himself with a male and dominant body pricked him too strongly. The urge had emerged several days before, and Hannibal, being the patient man he was, let it grow in his stomach until he could no longer hold on. Sometimes it accumulated there for several months. The longer he waited, the greater and more effective the relief would be, and the more rarely the act would have to be repeated. 

In the evening when he came home from his office, he sighed with well-being as he returned to the warmth of his home. Winter had begun, and the biting cold still stung his cheeks when he went upstairs to get ready.

The preparation was meticulous and long, because he was that kind of man. Everything he did had to be done with care and passion, otherwise it was worthless. Even when he was about to go to a club that had a perverse and inappropriate atmosphere, he took his time and prepared himself with the same care and attention as if he had to go to the opera with all the society's elite. But it wasn't really the same clothes or the same hairstyle. Hannibal came out of his room with black cotton pants, a darkly colored shirt with graphic patterns, and his hair looked like it was falsely tousled. A deep cologne emanated from his throat, very different from what he usually wore. Before getting dressed, he had, of course, showered and forced several fingers into his body to get used to relaxing in preparation for the night to come. He had poured two glasses of wine with a light meal and listened to music, waiting for the time to be late enough for a place like the one he wanted to visit tonight to be open.

When he went into his car, his sex was still a bit hardened. He had refused to relieve the tension at home; the whole point of this situation was to find the adequate relief. Hannibal was always working to experience relief that was exactly appropriate for his needs, whether it was social situations, murder, or sex. If he had just masturbated in the shower, he wouldn't even have bothered to go out and find a partner tonight, and would have had to wait several days again.

He had to drive for almost an hour, to be far enough away so that no one around him would be likely to frequent a place like this. He often took advantage of his travels abroad or in other states of America to frequent these places and preserve his anonymity. However, this was the second time he went to this club, and the hygiene was quite decent. This point was not really negligible for Hannibal Lecter.

He parked his car - which he had rented for the occasion when he left work, to remain incognito - and before leaving, he took from the glove compartment a small metal flask filled with his favorite whisky. A few sips patiently drunk while his eyes gazed at the entrance of the club through the center mirror. He didn't drink to be less conscious and to give himself courage, because he was totally a man to have the courage to face anything with all his conscience. Rather, he drank to feel his stomach and esophagus warm, because this alcoholic heat amplified his excitement. It was also for this reason that he took his time before entering. To prolong the waiting and the desire, and to inflate the satisfaction to come.

Sometimes he selected the partner, based on general appearance and a certain compatibility, or he didn't choose and let anyone take him, or he didn't even see who was taking him. It depended on his needs at the time. 

Tonight, he would allow himself to choose according to the size of the penis.

It was rare that this was the case, but today he wanted to feel the burning of an unusually big sex, he wanted to feel the pain of pulling, and the extreme sensation of fullness involved. Because the void was immense in his soul and in his stomach. Because this emptiness would be somewhat anesthetized after that night.

This specific void originated from Will Graham. Hannibal had met him a few months earlier, a patient and profiler who was actually investigating Hannibal Lecter. An ironic situation in which Hannibal was terribly pleased. But his relationship with Will Graham was also evolving, and Hannibal was developing feelings for the other man. Not the kind of silly love feeling, no. Indescribable feelings that made him want to reveal himself, to want Will Graham to become a true friend, like he'd never known before.

But Will Graham was getting sick - encephalitis -, and Hannibal, because he was a twisted and ruthless psychopath, was going to send his own friend to prison soon. It was all part of a diabolically well thought-out plan, but yet Hannibal felt an emptiness at the thought of acting this way, at the thought of not being able to fully reveal himself to Will Graham without all these devious means. The emptiness was growing because Will was still not really seeing Hannibal, and because Hannibal wanted more from their relationship.

Even though he was patient, these desires for a future with the other man burned him and widened the emptiness. And made him want to fill that void, that hole in him, violently, with something very thick and a little bit painful. Probably a masochistic aspiration to feel physical pain for what he was going to do to his friend by sending him to prison. Yes, there was some of that. Who would blame him? Everyone was compensating as best they could.

Hannibal finally got out of the rental car, black as ink and almost invisible in the parking lot. So was the man, in his tall, dark woollen coat, concealed by the darkness of the night.

It was easy to enter the club, leave his coat at the locker room, cross the dance floor to reach the bar and notice the glances that landed on him. Hannibal was a predator with sharp senses, something he could put to good use in any type of situation. It allowed him to know who wanted him already, who wanted to be taken by him, who wanted to fuck him, and who wanted to do this particularly brutally. This last point was the only one he was interested in, which led him to reject some lonely souls who tried to approach him while he was drinking another whisky at the bar. (Although he had always liked whisky, it had become his favourite drink of late, since he had met Will, who drank it almost daily.)

Finally, he went to the club's rear alone, because he was looking for a large sex anyway, and it could not be guessed through the clothes. He had to admire the naked bodies, to look at them with his eyes. He enjoyed smelling the strong and diverse scents of sweat that saturated the dark corridor he entered.Spicy sweats that left no doubt about the kind of activity that was going on here, which was intensified by unequivocal moaning sounds.

He took off his shirt as he progressed, peeking through the open doors he passed by to see what was going on.Blowjobs, sodomy, duet, trio, parties, bondage, whips, sextoys, ... there was generally enough for all tastes. He stopped and took off his pants and then his underwear, holding his clothes in his arms as he searched in each room to see if a particularly well-built male was available.

Finally, he was pleased to find, sitting on a fake leather couch and alone next to a trio having a great time, a man who stroked with leather-gloved hands his long, thick penis, too long and too thick, exactly what Hannibal needed tonight. He felt the saliva rise to his cheeks as he entered the room and put his clothes on the couch next to the man. If the man was still alone, it must have been because no one was up for a piece like that.

Hannibal was able to better discern the man's hood and noticed that it stopped him from seeing anything. He could imagine himself for a moment in the place of the unknown man, masturbating to the sounds of several groaning men, immersed in total blindness, with impatience that a complete stranger would deign to help him with this bull penis. Hannibal smiled and knelt down through the thighs of the hooded stranger. The man did not seem to realize it, deprived of sight and with his hearing and sense of smell completely blurred by what was going on around him.Then Hannibal did nothing more than rest his lips on the swollen, pink, and wet head of the penis. To feel the man jump with surprise and then tremble at the sensation, excited Hannibal terribly.

It was a complex blowjob; the sex was huge and smothered Hannibal's mouth when he tried to swallow it as far as possible. He had to think about breathing calmly through his nose occasionally. However, he tried to go deeper, to feel the fullness in his mouth. The cock had a pleasant taste, and the cannibal enjoyed swallowing the substance with the thought that it would settle in his stomach. His eyes were filled with tears because it rubbed his epiglottis mercilessly.

But he loved it, he was deliberately hurting himself on that wonderful dick, starting to forget everything around him. His own cock was painfully hard and taut, and his own fingers, coated with the lubricant that he had managed to grab at some point in the pocket of his pants next to him, were forcefully plowing his insides to prepare the passage of the sex that was ravaging his mouth.

He forgot all except one thing, in fact. He thought very strongly of Will, and his fertile spirit wandered to forbidden lands where he imagined preparing himself for Will Graham himself. Suddenly it was Will he was sucking on, Will on whom he was going to impale himself.

He soon removed the monstrous sex from his mouth, his saliva dripping from his spread-out lips as he stood up and sat down on the stranger's thighs. He didn't sit up front, because he didn't want to just impale himself. He sat from behind, hoping that the sexual object beneath him understood his intention. And he did.

He was pushed, by a cold touch of leather fingers quite exciting, onto the cool and unpleasant couch, seeing almost nothing under the minimal lighting of the room, hearing nothing but his own heartbeat, which palpitated with excitement and apprehension. He was about to get what he had wanted for weeks. The Chesapeake Ripper, this sadistic and relentless monster, grabbed the edges of the couch with force, savoring every second that separated him from his reward. It lasted just long enough for the man to put on a condom and smear his sex with the lubricant that Hannibal had once handed him.

Curiously, the man penetrated him more gently than most of the partners he had met anonymously. Hannibal attributed this to the handicap between the man's thighs, which could break anyone if he wasn't careful. The idea excited him more. Hannibal clenched his jaws powerfully as the bulging head passed the barrier of his narrow flesh. Then the stranger froze again, visibly waiting for a sign from his partner to continue. Dr. Lecter gave that sign, pushing his hips backwards so that the length could penetrate him; he again felt his eyes water as the rest of the cock followed, immobilizing him in place.

It may not have been the biggest sex he had inside him, but it was terribly bulky and it took up so much space. It seemed to stretch him out until it touched his entire body, his entire soul. (It must be said that the Chesapeake Ripper had a disquieting passion for painful or lethal penetration, as many of his murders with bodies stabbed with multiple sharp tools testified.) It was an aphrodisiac feeling that hit the psychopath's brain and finally filled the damn void.

Hannibal wanted to stay like this all night, beset by a stranger who was silencing the pain of the void and replacing it with the considerable and effective sensation of simply being fucked.

Then the man began to move slowly so as not to injure the doctor, and he felt the leather fingers clinging to his hips. He imagined again that it was Will who was grabbing him, with that mixture of firmness and tenderness. Will with gloves because he was not supposed to leave his DNA on a crime scene; Will who was killing implacably. But it wasn't happening.

The stranger set a terribly delicious pace; neither too slow nor too fast. He gave talented hip strokes that filled Hannibal's ass with rare satisfaction. His prostate was rubbed tirelessly, regularly, in an expert and ecstatic way. The doctor's face was pressed into the plastic-smelling couch, his arms dangling beside him. These were the only times the Chesapeake Ripper knew such submission. It was cleansing him of everything, bringing things back to a state of tranquility. He was bathing, letting himself sink, in the heart of that magical fuck.

The incredible dick fucked him more intensely, harder, and unfortunately it rang the end of their embrace after a few strokes of the hips. The stranger hadn't lasted so long inside the doctor, but the doctor had sucked him first with such enthusiasm that it was quite understandable. Hannibal was not disappointed. On the contrary, it was the best sex he had had in a long time, and he had forgotten that this feeling could make him so fulfilled. 

Hannibal had anticipated that the unknown would withdraw after he had come. However, the gloved hand on his hip slipped further down and gently palpated his testicles. The strange touch gave Hannibal gratitude for this invitation; he could come while the wonderful cock remained inside him. Clearly, the man of this night understood his desires.

Hannibal smiled blissfully as he grabbed his cock, which was bloody aching and as trickling as his mouth and eyes. He wanked with force, muffling his moans to the maximum as he concentrated on the delight of having his ass spread so wide open. He ejaculated with unprecedented intensity, his body tense and devastated by an almost murderous pleasure, which made him shake with force as he spilled on the couch. His muscles and organs filled with a burn and a pleasure so divine that only death could compete with this sensation.

When he finally recovered, Hannibal smiled, remembering that it was Will's thoughts that had contributed to making this moment so delicious. He remained with his ass in the air for a few seconds, lulled by the idea of the profiler, while the stranger withdrew from his body. Hannibal's ass was probably gaping. A zipper sound indicated to Hannibal that the man behind him was opening his hood, presumably to regain his sight while removing the condom and tying it.

Hannibal finally sat down, a slightly idiotic smile on his face, post-coital. He didn't really want to see the face of the man, who had his back to him and seemed to be looking for clothes in the dark, yet Hannibal glanced at him. At least to recognize the man in the future, when he would be dressed, perhaps on the dance floor, and Hannibal would again desire his favors.

The brown curls, exactly like Will Graham's, on that same delicate neck, struck Hannibal's heart with a terribly violent punch, like a car accident on the highway. A punch like he hadn't received in decades. 

His eyes widened and he tried to tell himself that he was hallucinating, but the face turned slightly and he saw that familiar profile, illuminated by a tiny light spot not far away.

It was Will Graham. 

It was Will Graham. Who had deliberately blinded himself from the beginning, and who continued to ignore the man he had just taken with such tender brutality. Who stood up to escape from the room and disappear into the meanders of this sleazy club.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter!  
> Hannibal being a bitch of mind manipulation :D
> 
> No beta-reading. If there's anything wrong with the translation, feel free to tell me :)
> 
> Thanks for your support. I hope you will still appreciate the story <3

It was Will Graham.

The shock kept Hannibal in place for an unusually long time - well, unusually long for Hannibal Lecter, but in fact it didn't last more than two or three minutes. It was the biggest surprise of his life. And for him, who was fond of them, it really wasn't a small thing.

It was Will Graham. Who had just fucked him deliciously, who had just filled the void that he himself had created.

It was Will Graham. The man Dr. Lecter wanted more than anything else in the world, the man he wanted to be closest to. And who had been closer than anyone else tonight, who had bathed in the most intimate and vicious secrets of Hannibal and his body.

Did alcohol and sex play tricks on him, made him delirious. No, he hadn't had that much drink. He wasn't sick either.

It was Will Graham. With a horse's dick, a spectacular, tender and brutal way of fucking, attentive to a partner, even an unknown one.

What was he doing here? Why did he blind himself? Hannibal would find answers to these small details later. For now, he was thinking about how to handle the information that hit him in the face. He was considering about what he should do with it all, what it implied or changed between them or in his plans.

When he got dressed and went to a faucet to clean himself up, he was always thinking a lot.

Anyway, he wasn't going to run after Will. Having this information unbeknownst to Will gave him a considerable advantage in their relationship.

On the way home, he put on some music, but he didn't hear any notes, his mind whirling between the memories of the evening and the future. The future plans, the consequences of this particular act that had united them in an unexpected way, even in everything the psychopath could have foreseen.

He had enough knowledge and experience about the human psyche, which made him a true specialist in human behavior, to be able to imagine the reasons for the most incongruous and surprising details of that evening. Details that he incorporated into Will's model, whose porous boundaries were deforming to let the new information in; this modified the previous model, reshaping Will Graham's complex cartography in his mind palace.

According to the psychiatrist, the deprivation of the senses -touching, sight- elaborated by the profiler had the purpose of stifling his habitual emotional contagion, his unconventional empathy. Obstructing his sight in this way allowed him to palliate his frequent problems of visual contact. Impeding his touch by the use of gloves solved the problem of the particular intimacy of the hands. And no doubt Will had also managed to interfere with the sense of smell - which would explain why Hannibal did not perceive Will's scent. The agent had probably perfumed himself with an unusual fragrance, which would help him to feel like someone else.

All of these cumulative gestures worked in favor of a transfer of identity, almost a disembodiment, a psychological process designed entirely in order to protect himself, to forget himself. In order to obtain satisfaction, corporal or sexual, without any other disturbance.

It made sense now. Will Graham's sexuality, given his complex, sensitive and deciduous personality, had had to adapt and find devious ways to obtain enjoyment. He had built forts, as he had already admitted in their first conversation.

Even the fact that it was homosexuality in such an anonymous and dark place contributed to this whole design: Will Graham forgot who he was, ignored his partner, did not become attached, disappeared like a shadow. He was nobody and that was exactly what he wished to be at that moment.

Only in a place like this was all this possible.

Hannibal wanted to know how Will reached this point, wanted to know every complex step, every fumble, every failure, every discovery, that had driven him to this hooded character who had fucked him tonight.

He also considered that if Will was able to work so hard to build a character, he might not be the innocent and simple man he was showing to the world. Other things were lurking inside him, darker, more terrifying. Hannibal longed to peel away Will Graham to get a glimpse into the darkest details. To warp the little things that stood there, to serve his own interests: to push Will to be a companion.

To discover the faces of the monster hidden in the shadows, and to let them express themselves, blossom.

To quench the thirst for sex. And the thirst for blood.

Hannibal smiled at himself, lying in the dark in his bed, unable to sleep as his neurons were firing in his unique brain.

They had reached a significant step in their relationship. Will had seen a secret facet of Dr. Lecter, without realizing it, and that was the psychopath's whole design. To make himself known to Will, to reveal himself to him, in his entirety; his body and his soul.

After these discoveries, he was terribly eager for them to discover each other. He hadn't been this excited about anything since... well, maybe never before.

**

"Will." The psychiatrist's welcome was particularly warm, and there was something proud and satisfied about his smile. This of course made Will frown when he got up from his chair and entered the office.

"You look very cheerful. "

Hannibal smiled more as he closed the door. He was, really. Happy with recent events and discoveries, happy to see Will again with this new information. Happy to link, in his mind, the man standing in front of him to the particular lovemaking they had shared.

"I am." That was his only response, and Will didn't seem to dwell on the information, putting his jacket on the arm of the chair and starting to pace around the room. He was obviously agitated.

"Jack wants me to take a break."

They discussed recent events; Jack Crawford, Georgia Madchen, Will's restless nights.

"Don't you have any activities that would allow you to get back to a comfortable sleep?"

Will looked up at the doctor, and he refrained from showing anything on his face that would betray what he was thinking, because he inevitably had to think about secret sexual activities. The psychiatrist wanted to smile; Will could really fool those around him. He was talented at that, and Hannibal was really discovering it now. He would make a perfect killer.

"When the voices come up, believe me, nothing can help you sleep anymore."

Hannibal pretended to write something down. They were sitting facing each other in their usual chairs.

"What about your sexuality? Carnal activities soothe the body and mind, and provide a more healing rest." Hannibal was throwing the bait into the river.

Will had a little snigger, and rubbed his forehead with his damaged fingers. "Do you really think that with my condition, I'm thinking about having sex?"

What a fine liar. Hannibal smiled slightly, and his heart beat warmly in his chest. He loved Will Graham more and more, that was a sure thing.

"It's conceivable. Sexuality can act as a purifier. It can help to free from the pressures of the present. It's a world of its own and it' s not unhealthy to explore it."

Will stared at him, seemingly thinking of an answer to formulate. Hannibal was putting his foot in it, and he enjoyed it. Disrupting Will was definitely one of his favorite games.

"You can imagine that my condition doesn't make sexuality easy," Will replied, after thinking carefully about what words to say.

Discussions with Will were very fulfilling; so many unspoken words and detours. Hannibal adored it.

"It is possible to imagine solutions to overcome our own vulnerabilities. Sexuality has the advantage of covering a wider range than a traditional missionary position between a man and a woman. Creativity could help you to palliate your condition." Psychologically, he was pushing Will against a wall, and it was exciting. The psychopath was feasting.

Again, it took Will a few seconds. Was he going to deny his sexuality again? Was he going to use the approach to cling to it and reveal himself? Was he going to suspect that Hannibal had taboo elements?

He offered his usual nervous laugh, and Hannibal wondered whether this was a learned parry to stick to his character, or whether it was the real Will. The psychiatrist was on an incredible playground with Will, and looking for his little secrets was becoming addictive.

"Well, maybe I have my own solutions, indeed. That said, I doubt this has anything to do with everything else."

He was trying to cuti t short. The headlights had illuminated him in the middle of the night, and he escaped into the forest. Hannibal stared at Will's slightest reaction, each facial expression, each position that his limbs took. Any psychiatrist would have told him that he was free to talk about it or not. But Hannibal wasn't, for sure.

"It has something to do with if it helps you maintain your mental health. Or if it helps you get to know yourself better. Does your sexuality help you feel better, Will?"

He was showing that he understood that Will did have a sexuality, no matter how cleverly he used language. He had pushed him against a wall, and now he was pressing against his body. He was using his first name, creating an intimacy that was increasingly difficult to escape.

Will wrinkled his nose and pulled up his glasses. This time it seemed sincere. He felt trapped, caught in the spider's web. And since Will had probably never told anyone about it, Hannibal knew that freeing himself from that weight was itching.

"Yes," the profiler whispered, and his eyes couldn't face the psychiatrist. The real Will finally showed up, and Hannibal wouldn't let him escape. He would dig in to see and admire as much as he could. Hannibal was a voyeur of souls.

He didn't say anything, leaving the patient plenty of space to express himself freely.

"I am quite far from the traditional missionary." It was an opening, and he threw it for Hannibal to help him move forward.

"You can unveil yourself, Will, I'm neutral," he lied brilliantly.

The empath took an inhalation to give himself a kind of courage, and his gaze was definitely away from the doctor. "I've never been able to have a normal sexuality. I see too much, how is it possible to share intimacy with someone when you lose yourself in the other person's mind? It was always chaotic and rarely satisfying. The costs were not worth the benefits."

"You're talking in the past tense."

This time, a sigh. "Because I have gradually found solutions, as you said so well. I am human, I have desires. And sexuality helps me to keep a certain stability. It was a way out, you guessed it very well, doctor. "There seemed to be a bit of irony in that, but Hannibal didn't mind. Will was understandably agitated by the revelations. "Well, until recently. Even that, it doesn't really help anymore. "

Hannibal would have liked Will to give the juicy details of these so-called solutions, but since he already knew them, he wasn't going to risk appearing insistent.

The doctor nodded his head. "Given the current situation, it's quite understandable." Hannibal stood up with a small smile. He was satisfied with the session, and they were already a few minutes late. He could release Will now, the dice had been rolled.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"


End file.
